


Matinee

by supernaturallylost



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Normal Life, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluffy Ending, Hurt Castiel, M/M, Protective Dean Winchester, dean works in a movie theater to pay for sam's college, very light angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2015-04-19
Packaged: 2018-03-22 07:17:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3720004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supernaturallylost/pseuds/supernaturallylost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a whim, Castiel decides to go to the movies. Luckily, he catches the matinee of the newest release: 'The Buzz on Bees: a Documentary'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Matinee

“I’m sorry, Castiel,” one of the managers said. He held out a notice of termination along with a final paycheck. “Stealing from the company is an offense we can’t take lightly. I’m very sorry.”

Cas sucked and bit his cheek, shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and nodded to reassure himself before he stepped forward. His hand shook as it rose to receive the papers.

“Thank you, sir,” he said quietly. His voice contained no sorrow and no shame, though there was a twinge of _something_. Regret, perhaps, or blind adrenaline. “I’ve appreciated the opportunities here, and I respect your decision.”

The manager nodded again before adding a very soft, “Castiel, if you ever need any references, you can always call me. You were the best employee we’ve ever had here.”

Castiel nodded, his eyes watered, and he shook the manager’s hand before smiling weakly and walking away.

He didn’t turn back. He’d already said goodbye to all of them. Thousands upon thousands of hard workers, many of which he’d come to love like family, would probably not even register that he was gone. Still, he would always cherish the memories they’d given him. He clutched the papers in his hand closer to his chest as he made his way to the car. Finally, he allowed his emotions to fall from his eyes while his hands carefully shifted the key in the ignition and guided the car out of the dirt parking lot.

 

A week, two weeks, three weeks passed. The mail started to pile up too high for the mailman to fit it into the apartment boxes, so the landlord eventually made his way upstairs with a stack of bills and notices and advertisements.

“You alright in there?” the landlord had called.

When he received no answer, he sighed. He slipped a note under the door indicating that Castiel’s mail was being held at the office if he wanted to retrieve it.

Time seemed to tick by in Cas’ ear. Being out of work made him feel restless and exhausted, but nothing slowed time more than wanting it to go by faster. He needed something to tend to, something to work on. As he clicked random buttons on the old television remote, he stopped in time to see a preview for a new movie at the local theater. Cas nodded. He decided to stand up, to shower, and to walk to the theater in time for the afternoon showing. If he hurried, he would just catch the matinee.

 

 Dean Winchester waited impatiently outside of theater number eight. Although it was the smallest theater, he still wasn’t happy about having to clean it. There was a documentary shown on that screen for the past two hours. Who went to see documentaries, anyway? Parents with young children, probably. Who are the messiest patrons of the theater business? Children. Dean sighed.

When the trickle of people coming out from the room slowed, Dean edged his way inside. The lights were on, but the room was still dim and orangey. The ending credits were still rolling. In about twenty minutes, the previews for the next showing would begin. Unhappily, Dean set to work with his broom and dustpan.

Popcorn became a reviling smell after a few months of working almost exclusively with it. The only motivation great enough that it could drive Dean to keep this job was that Sam needed the money for college. Stanford may be a great school, and Sammy may have received great scholarships, but there was still a massive debt to be paid. The buttery, starchy, oily smell would wash out from his clothes eventually. Dean focused on that silver lining as he swept up at least twelve gallons of discarded popcorn from the center seats. Then, he made his way to the back.

When he began walking upward, he thought he was hearing a buzzing sound. Because the movie was called ‘The Buzz on Bees: a Documentary’, Dean assumed the ending credits were just ending with a flourish. However, as he stepped further up to the back, the buzzing began to sound softer, like a whimper. Someone was still in the room.

“Hello?” Dean called.

He heard a sniffle just as he reached the backmost row of the theater.

Sitting on the ground with his arms wrapped around his knees was a man with dark brown hair, honest blue eyes, and pale chapped lips. He was crying quietly beside a bucket of popcorn. When Dean stopped short and took a breath of surprise, the man looked up.

 

Castiel quickly ran a hand under his nose to wipe away the mixture of tears and snot that was running down to his chin. He tried to take deep breaths, but only pitiful sobs came out. A couple of feet to his right was a theater employee, complete with the tacky red and black visor. His green eyes wandered over Cas easily, full of questions. The most important question in them was obvious: should he laugh or worry?

 

Dean bit his tongue. A smile rose and fell hesitantly. He must have looked like a malfunctioning robot at that moment as he raised and lowered his arms, opened and closed his mouth, and straightened and loosened his shoulders. Eventually, he managed to speak.

“Are you alright, sir?” he asked lamely.

The stranger wiped his now wet hand on his slacks before standing. In the warm lighting of the theater, he looked flushed. Still, it was very clear that he’d been crying for a long time.

“I’m sorry,” his voice cracked.

“It’s okay,” Dean tried to laugh. “Bees make my little brother cry sometimes, too.”

The man tried to smile weakly.

“Allergies,” Dean added stupidly, still trying to smile. His eyebrows were lifted in concern. “My brother is allergic, I mean.”

The stranger hiccupped. At least, it sounded like a hiccup to Dean. It might have been a laugh.

“I used to take care of bees,” the man said suddenly. “I was in charge of the hives for an organic shop down the road from here.”

“That must have been,” Dean started. He tried to think of the appropriate word before settling on, “interesting.”

The man nodded and sat down on a theater seat. Dean set his broom against the wall, glanced down to make sure his manager wasn’t watching to make sure he was cleaning properly, and then walked over to sit beside the stranger.

“It was amazing,” the man smiled. “The bees recognized me, and they each had their own little personalities. Most of them ignored me, but there were a handful that followed me around and drank from my drinks. There was one bee who would drink so much caffeine that she would fly around in zigzags and crash into things as if she was drunk.”

Dean grinned at the image before speaking.

“Why’d you quit?” he asked simply.

The man took in a deep breath and looked down.

“Oh,” Dean said. He felt the warmth of blush on his cheeks as he, too, looked away. “You were fired.”

 

Castiel fidgeted. His thumbs had their own miniature war for a moment as he steadied his heartbeat, focused on deep breaths, and allowed a few tears to fall.

“I was stealing some of the honey,” Cas whispered. He took a deep breath. “There were some kids who never had enough to eat, and I could afford to buy them bread and butter, but honey was a treat for them. It was healthy, I had access to a lot of it, and they really needed it. I couldn’t let them starve.”

Cas looked up at the stranger, whose eyes rose to meet his own, searching for validation, agreement, understanding. What he got, however, was a moment of silence followed by the pursing of lips.

 

Dean watched the man’s eyes carefully as he slowly raised his arm and set it around the man. Normally, he’d never put his arm around a stranger, but he was crying. Dean couldn’t just let someone cry.

 

Cas stiffened at first. Normally, he’d never let a stranger wrap an arm around him, but he was crying. He didn’t want to just keep crying.

 

Dean smoothed over the stranger’s shoulder with his thumb.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “You were just doing what you thought was right.”

The man nodded and relaxed in Dean’s hold.

“I guess I can understand why you got so emotional over a bee documentary,” Dean smiled.

Again, the man nodded.

Suddenly, the manager of the theater walked in the entrance and glanced around looking for Dean. Immediately, Dean retracted his arm. Luckily, all the manager saw was Dean sitting beside a man who looked visibly upset.

“Is there a problem here, sir?” the manager asked, walking upward. Then he turned to Dean, who stood dutifully and stepped out of the way. The manager stepped around and walked to the stranger, who was wiping his eyes. “Are you alright, sir? Dean’s job was to ask you to leave after the credits ended; if he seemed impolite, I apologize.”

“No, no!” the man said, shaking his hands in front of him and shaking his head quickly. “Dean was very kind, actually. You’ve got a great employee in him.”

The manager arched an eyebrow, looked from Dean to the man, and internally shrugged.

“Thank you, sir,” he smiled diplomatically. “If you’d like to leave a comment with us complimenting Dean, we do have surveys and comment cards up at the front desk.”

 

Castiel could feel the manager’s impatience, so he smiled and nodded. He stood up, sniffled again, and smiled at Dean. Then, the manager led him out of the room so Dean could focus on cleaning the remaining aisles of the theater.

 

Dean took deep breaths as the final minutes of his shift ended. Finally, he let out a celebratory groan, removed his visor, ruffled his hair, and hurried to the back room. There, he changed his clothes and stepped into the manager’s office to notify him that he was leaving.

“Dean?” the manager said quickly after Dean turned to leave. “About three hours ago we had a patron in to see the bee documentary. He left a comment card and asked that I give it to you.”

Dean tilted his head, reached out to receive the card, and smiled as he left. Just outside of the theater, Dean read through the card. As he did, his cheeks became redder and redder.

 

_Dean was more than polite – he was kind. He showed me compassion and understanding despite my admitted overreaction to the bee documentary I had viewed. I appreciated his attempts to make me smile, and his thoughtfulness was not unnoticed._

_If he’d be interested in seeing me when I’m not crying, I’d very much enjoy having dinner with him sometime. I’ll leave my cell number here._

_Dean? Thank you._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Leave comments if you've got them!


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